


Retreat

by wreckofherheart



Category: Carol (2015)
Genre: F/F, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-23 00:43:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6099245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wreckofherheart/pseuds/wreckofherheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Safety is an erratic, fickle embrace.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Retreat

Safety is an erratic, fickle embrace.

There has always been an _edge_ ; a sense of not feeling all too alone.  And in the worst way.  The terror of him hunting her, grasping her secrets and spilling them at her feet.  

There has always been a _condition_.  On that _one_  condition, will he offer safety; will he pretend to love her like any girl wishes to be loved.  That one condition which determines whether her own child remains wrapped in her arms, or _torn_  from her.  

There has always been a lack of _warmth_.  A coldness in that  _safety_  she’s been forced to endure around him.  His safety is conditional, and it is erratic; temperamental, and it is fickle.  Sharp and hurtful; dismantling and corroding whatever she is.

 

But, then, there is an _unconditional_  kind.  Not a promise to keep her out of harm’s way, but at least a promise that the pain, the edge, that erratic temper shall not come from her.  Therese is not the conditional kind; her love is full and it is alive; and it is the very essence of youth.  It is fragile, and young, and delicate and wholesome.

 

With Harge, safety meant the condition of staying awake; restless at night in fear of a tomorrow. 

With Therese, safety means everything safety ought to mean.  The safety which pulls Carol ever a little closer, grips onto her clothes, or hand, or kisses her lips, simply for the sake of knowing Carol is there; that she hasn’t disappeared; that whatever tomorrow brings, at least it will not be endured alone.  Safety is smiling in the confines of their dark, secluded room, where eyes cannot pry. 

Safety is finding joy when there supposedly is none; when the rest of the world glares at them, and there is still something to laugh about.

 

Therese kisses her to sleep; a soft touch to her cheeks, her heavy lidded eyes, her mouth and her neck.  Therese clings onto her so tightly, it is almost tragic; but wonderful all the same.  She clings onto her not out of fear, but for the very sake of staying _close_.  

 

Safety is gentle, unconditional; the quiet which effortlessly pulls them both into an easing slumber.  


End file.
